Beautiful
by ChimericalParoxysm
Summary: Dennis and Gabrielle meet at a wedding. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Written for MidnightEmberMisery's Art of War competition. My rule is below, and my pairing is Gabrielle/Dennis :)

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_He will win who knows how to handle both superior and inferior forces._

Dennis Creevey loved his job. He was a quiet sort of person whose passions were drawing and writing, and his job at the Prophet suited him perfectly. Mostly he covered events in the Human Interest column—the annual War Memorial, important weddings and births, and so on—but sometimes he got to write about acts of altruism and the like, and he also did some illustrations throughout. He couldn't quite understand how someone could go into the Auror offices or become a writer for the Law and Justice column after all that had happened in the war.

For Dennis had, had quite enough tragedy and darkness to last him several lifetimes, though he had somehow managed to come out of it unscathed both physically and psychologically. The death of his brother had pierced him too deeply for him to be untouched emotionally, but he had healed, and he was happy with his life.

When he and Colin had been quite small they had started creating stories and newspaper articles with their limited skills in photography and composition, displaying them proudly to their parents upon completion. As they'd grown older, their skills grew, too, as did their passion for their respective arts, and they had continued to create works together. Dennis still had them all in a trunk in his parents' home and, though he didn't look at them for fear of dwelling, he did value them as a living memory of his relationship with his brother and he cherished them from a distance.

Several weeks had passed since the Third Annual War Memorial, and Dennis was on his way to his most recent assignment—the double wedding of Harry and Ginny, and Ron and Hermione—not just as a reporter, but also as a welcomed guest. It was a beautiful summer day, perfect weather for the outdoor wedding. The sun was bright and warm, and there was a light breeze that he knew would sway both dresses and hair flawlessly for the photographs. He arrived at the Burrow early and was greeted by a bustling but hospitable Molly.

"Oh, do come in, Dennis, dear. Most of the family's rather busy, but you just go on out to the back yard and help yourself if you're hungry."

"Need any help, Molly?"

"No, no! Just go on outside and relax!"

Dennis loved the outdoors, and so he found a nicely shaded spot beneath a tree and began to draw. He was distracted sometime later by a large and rambunctious group of boys. He squinted slightly to see what they were congregating around and was amused to spot a girl with gorgeous silvery hair. She seemed torn between exasperation and an intense desire to be polite, and so he thought he might as well rescue her.

He pushed gently through the small crowd, a strange tingling sensation flowing over him. He suddenly felt a little lighter, a little more carefree. He noticed all of her features shift to another level of perfection and realised she must be Fleur's younger sister. "Gabrielle! I've been looking all over for you," he smiled apologetically at their audience. "I need your help with something, do you mind?"

She artfully masked her confusion and curiosity and shook her head, her hair flowing hypnotically around her shoulders. She opened her mouth to speak and he had to blink before he could hear her. "—really must. I'll see you all at the wedding," she was concluding with only a trace of the accent her sister possessed. The men were all nodding dazedly, despite the disappointment in their eyes, as Dennis led Gabrielle to a secluded part of the yard.

"You're nervous about something?" he asked kindly as they disappeared behind a cluster of trees.

"I—Well, yes, but… What makes you say that? And who _are_ you anyway?"

"Sorry," he grinned sheepishly. "I'm Dennis Creevey. And your Veela-ing was what made me wonder. I mean, you didn't seem all that pleased with the attention, so I figured it was nerves or something making it harder to control." He paused, concerned for a moment that he'd made a mistake.

She flushed with embarrassment. "Yeah, I'm usually better at… Keeping it down."

"Is it difficult?"

"I'm a fairly… emotional… person," she confessed softly.

"Ah, I'm sorry it's hard for you."

She smiled and opened her mouth to thank him when a thought seemed to occur to her and she looked at him penetratingly. "Why aren't _you _grovelling or devising insane stories?"

He grinned good-naturedly. "Veela powers just don't really affect me as strongly as others. Hermione said something about innocence and whatnot. I didn't really understand it to be honest, but she isn't usually wrong."

She looked at him contemplatively. "What do you think of me then?"

"Which part of you? Your looks, or your personality?"

She was taken aback. "Both, I suppose." It occurred to him that she probably felt like people only liked her for her beauty, and that it must feel awful. He resolved not to screw it up.

"Well, you're very beautiful. My brother would have loved to photograph you—beneath the night sky, where you would shine in time with the stars—he always had this feel for beauty." He allowed himself a wistful smile. "Your eyes are deep and sensitive, and your smile is sweet and genuine. Your laugh is unrestrained, which implies that you're confident and truly happy. And I've seen you interact with others, and you are kind even to your less-than-welcome entourage." He paused and grinned. "Do I pass?"

Gabrielle blinked at him. "You see all that? Just from today? Have we met before?"

"I'm sure I'd remember if we had."

She seemed flustered and gestured to his drawing pad as a diversion. "What's that?" She giggled when he revealed his drawing of a garden gnome rushing dizzily back to the bushes. "It's very good."

"Thank you," he replied genuinely. "You can have it if you want." He tore it out and handed it to her.

"Oh, no, I definitely need this masterpiece signed!"

He obliged with a grin.


	2. Chapter 2

Today was their three year anniversary, and Gabrielle _knew_ Dennis would have something special planned. She left Madam Puddifoot's where she was working as a waitress, and was sturdily enveloped in imaginings of candlelit dinners and chocolate covered strawberries by the time she reached The Three Broomsticks for lunch with Hannah. They had become great friends since she'd moved to England and began working in Hogsmeade. Often she and Dennis would double date with Hannah and Neville and they all got on wonderfully.

"Hi, Brie! I'll be with you in just one sec!" Hannah called from the far side of the room.

A few minutes later Hannah plunked down at "their" table and set two butterbeers between them. "Happy three years!"

Gabrielle grinned. "Thanks, Hannah."

"What've you two got planned?" Her eyebrows raised suggestively and Gabrielle blushed.

"I don't know," she sighed. "He won't tell me, it's all a big secret." Hannah bit her lip as though biting back a secret that was begging to slip from her mouth, and Gabrielle eyed her suspiciously. "What do _you_ know?"

"Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies!" she sing-songed, smiling mysteriously.

Lunch passed quickly, Gabrielle soon giving up on getting any insider information from her friend, and so did the rest of her workday. Before she knew it she was rushing around The Burrow, where she was living, clothes strewn everywhere, and make up products splayed across the vanity.

"Dennis is here, Gabrielle!" Molly called up the stairs.

"Shoot," she exclaimed in an undertone. "Thanks, Molly! Be down in a minute!"

Closer to twenty minutes later she stepped into the kitchen where Dennis and Molly were chatting away.

"Wow, you look amazing, Brie," Dennis greeted with a smile and a kiss on her cheek.

She slipped her hand into his. "So where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," he grinned.

Molly waved goodbye, and Dennis portkeyed them eagerly away. The Eiffel Tower rose up above the horizon in the distance, black against the bright orange sky. She looked at him curiously. "You know, France isn't quite so romantic when you grew up there," she teased.

"Oh," he feigned disappointment. "I guess we could go… someplace else…"

"Oh hush. What're we doing here?"

"Well, you grew up here, and I've never been… I thought you might like to show me around your home city. I know you miss it a lot."

She kissed him softly. "I'd love to."

They'd been walking hand-in-hand through the streets of Paris for nearly two hours when her stomach growled loudly.

He groaned. "About bloody time. I'm starving!"

"Where to then, oh Grand Orchestrator?" she laughed.

"Because I'd know. Take me where you will, oh Fearless Leader."

They were just around the corner from one of her favourite places when she was younger. When they reached the Italian pizzeria Dennis laughed. "You _would_ come to Paris to eat Italian food."

She gave him a gentle shove and led the way inside. The food was delicious, just as she'd remembered, but Gabrielle noticed that Dennis seemed a little strange as the meal wound to a close. Just as she was about to ask him if he was feeling alright, he took a large gulp of his wine and took her hand.

"Brie, I love you. And I know we haven't talked much about it, but it's been three years, and I've been thinking for a while now that maybe we should get a place together. Nothing big or anything, just… I'd really love to live with you. I know that—"

She opened her mouth to argue.

"I _know that,_" he reiterated, "you don't want to live together before marriage—that it's supposed to be bad luck—and so I've got no really fancy way of saying this, but I love you. And I want to be with you forever. And I'd _really, truly_ love for you to agree to become my wife."

Her mouth was still open as he presented a beautiful ring, and she quickly shut it. Her heart was beating strangely. "You—You want to get married?" she stammered.

He smiled and nodded. "More than anything."

A grin spread across her face and a giddy feeling spread through her chest. Leaning across the table she kissed him soundly, then pulled back slightly to whisper, "Alright then."

Dennis laughed. "Excellent," he replied, and slid the ring onto her finger, carefully admiring it from all angles.

"It's beautiful," she breathed.

He looked deep into her eyes and nodded. "Definitely beautiful."


End file.
